Keeping the Moon
by The Pixess
Summary: Belle Watling recieves an unexpected caller during the night...


**Disclaimer: It's not mine.**

A tiny clock sat on the mantle just above the fireplace. Rain pelted the ground furiously outside as the hour hand shifted onto the four. A thunderous banging at the door shattered the idleness of the twilight, incasing it with ominous urgency.

Belle Watling threw on her shall in a hurry, not pausing to wonder why a woman of her profession should make such a modest gesture. She rushed to open the door, but just before her fingers clasped around the knob it flew open of its own accord.

"Rhett!" she gasped. "Rhett, what's 'appened? What's wrong?"

Captain Butler stormed in without waiting for any further invitation. "I'll tell you what's wrong!" he snarled, looking more like a wolf than a man, "It's that damned wife of mine, that's what it is!"

"Is that all?" Belle asked, clutching her chest in relief. "Aw, shucks, Rhett! You scared the devil out of me! I thought some Yankee policeman was bargin' in, tryin' ter get me after some fool Klansman confessed-"

"The Klan can burn in hell for all I care!" Rhett roared. "I would have done better to let them hang, the lot of them!"

Belle's interest in the conversation was waning now that she knew her own neck was out of the noose. "Is this about that Ashley Wilkes again?" she asked idly.

"SHE THREW ME OUT OF HER BED!!!" he bellowed, livid that she had regarded his problems with such casual dismissal. "The damned wretch demanded _separate bedrooms_! Some swill about not wanting anymore children. Ha! She doesn't fool me for a moment, that vile little guttersnipe! She's gotten some romantic ideal swimming around her empty little head about faithfulness and devotion in the wake of forbidden love."

"She's a 'orrid piece of baggage," Belle said soothingly. She took a drag from her cigarette and patted the mattress beside her. "Come sit down and tell Ol' Belle all about it."

Rhett obeyed, as manipulable a child in his drunken state. He eased his head back into her lap and continued with his rant. "Faithfulness!" he repeated. "What does Ashley Wilkes know about faithfulness? He's never been faithful to Scarlett with his body and he's never been faithful to Melanie with his mind. By God, he wasn't even faithful to the Cause that destroyed Twelve Oaks! The damned fool didn't believe in the war anymore than I did, but he still went off to fight and slog through mud and eat food as good as dirt and catch dysentery and all those other blasted things!"

Belle stroked his jet-black hair comfortingly. "You did too," she reminded him softly.

"No," he moaned, turning his face into her calf. "No, it isn't the same! He went for honor's sake- always honor with him, the jackass! I didn't go for honor- never honor with me, I _spit_ on honor-"

"You expec-excepector- you hack any saliva on me or my floor and I'll toss you out by the ear like the rascal you are," Belle said coldly.

"YOUR floor?" Rhett roared. "Who the hell paid for all this? Your floor and your carpet and your mirrors and-"

"Oh, hush up," Belle said indifferently. "If you didn't join the army for honor's sake, why did you?"

Rhett did hush up, and right quick too. "I-I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, eyes downcast.

Belle softened. "What is it, hon?" she asked kindly.

Captain Butler looked at her, and she felt something like lightening race through her; there were tears in his eyes. "I-I thought," he whispered, "I thought it might make her- admire me more."

Belle's eyes were round as saucers. "Why, Rhett!" she cried in a sudden rush of shock and slight horror. She had never even imagined he was capable of stooping to such superficial means to attract women. Money and looks, yes, but- she simply could not understand it.

"I know," he murmured pitifully, tears running in down his face in such tiny tracks one might have thought they themselves were ashamed of being shed. "I _know_. I'll never understand how I could be so _bullheaded_. I mean it wasn't just _that,_ of course- pride for the old country, death of the South- well _some_ of my Father's sentimental drivel had to sink in, didn't it? But- we were going down that country road- I have no idea what came over me. I must have still been drunk with all the mead we had, do you remember? She even called a group of soldiers fleeing fools for fighting for the Cause, and she would have adored me for forever if I got her home safely to Tara, to hold her when she found all her cotton burned and livestock stolen and darkies gone and-" his words were lost in a sudden wave of sobs.

Belle realized he must be even more intoxicated than she thought- Rhett had been sober on the day of the siege; she vaguely remembered him wrenching a bottle of spirits out of her hands and ordering her to hide someplace just before he left. And she knew that Captain Rhett K. Butler would never be foolish enough to join the army over anything but hot Southern blood in his veins, no matter how infatuated he was- and anyway, why hadn't he deserted once he had gotten over the headache the next morning if ardor and alcohol had been what swept him off his feet?

"There, there, dearie," she said, humoring him. She pressed herself closer to him, subtly. "Spirits will do that to you, ya know. But I reckon Mrs. Butler was proud anyhow; you know how ladies are- so in love with patriotism."

"Scarlett isn't a lady," he said simply. "And she thinks patriotism to anything but gold coin is a simpleton's folly."

Belle sighed inwardly; Rhett was certainly unlike any other client she had ever had. Any other man bloomed when petted, melted with a single caress. Rhett didn't. He was practical even when intoxicated and would not follow ill logic, no matter how smoothly the words were stated.

"How's James?" she asked, hoping the change of subject would help perk him up. Captain Butler was different than her other clients in another way as well- she actually cared about more than how many paper bills she could squeeze out of him. He was her friend, and she cared for him.

Rhett snorted, and the question seemed to make him more lucid. "'Your son is as handsome as General Lee was beloved and worse still he knows it. His grades are exceptional, if only because he bullies other little rascals to do his work for him."

Belle sighed, spreading out across the bed. "Oh, well," she said tiredly. "I s'pose we couldn't ask for anythin' less, him coming from a Scalawag and a Lady of the Night. With luck he'll catch himself a girl with deep pockets so he won't grow up Cracker."

They lay together in silence for awhile, the only sound the clock ticking on the mantel. Rhett twinned his finger around a red tendril, imaging that it was the sooty black he had come to hold so dear.

"'Like a child who longs for the moon,'" he echoed softly, and as he felt his eyes begin to burn again he held Belle tighter still. She didn't mind; he needed to get affection from _somewhere_, and that half-Irish shrew certainly wasn't providing any. Belle wondered fleetingly how one woman who had been pampered and spoiled for all her life could grow to be so frosty. Moreover, _how_ could Rhett possibly love her when she had been nothing but vicious, cold, spiteful-

Belle pushed the thought out of her mind. It was none of her business, anyway. She absentmindedly began to count the dark hairs on Rhett's arms- what arms they were! Belle marveled sleepily at them. They were so strong, so muscular. How could that cat Scarlett bray for that blonde noodle Ashley when she had Captain-

Belle closed her eyes, feeling tears well suddenly beneath her lids. No, she couldn't think those thoughts. She had broken the mistress's most sacred rule- never get attached. You're meat to them, so don't except to be treated like nothin'_ but_ meat. It didn't matter that she had borne Rhett a child- she couldn't even prove it was his. He loved Scarlett, always, always Scarlett- no matter how rotten she treated him. It didn't matter to him; he'd always love her.

And she'd never love him.

"Like a child longing for the moon," breathed Rhett, and with vicarious longing he buried his lips in her hair- each scarlet lock a reminder of what he had lost.

"That's right, Rhett," she whispered into the darkness. "And what would a child do with the moon if he got it?"

She rolled over, not sure what she was going to say but knowing she had to say _something_. She might not have been a lady but she was a woman and all women had their breaking points. She couldn't lie in bed with him, pretending it was something more than it was when he was only paying for a compassionate ear.

_I _will_ tell him_, Belle thought firmly. _I ain't like that varmint Scarlett; I don't lead men on like they was dogs._ Determination was charging every particle of her being, urging her to tell him at last-

The feeling died in her breast and transformed into a dagger that stabbed at her heart.

Rhett had fallen asleep.


End file.
